What Becomes of Us
by dianty
Summary: Set prior to the series. A look at John's struggle after his wife dies and his path to hunting. Rated T for future chapters.
1. No One Believes

Disclaimer: I Do not own Supernatural or any of these characters.

What Becomes of Us

Chapter 1: No One Believes

John sat on the couch contemplating recent events and future plans. He had to be crazy to believe what he saw. He knew everyone in town stared at him and were mostly frightened of him. The police didn't believe him. Ann, the neighbor lady they were staying with, didn't believe him. He couldn't even believe it himself. So, why did this guy Special Agent Richard, believe him?

His right hand hung over the blue flower couch's armrest. In his hand was the all too familiar whiskey glass. He swished the whiskey around in the glass and took a large swallow. His arm rested again on the arm rest. He wasn't certain he trusted this guy. He certainly didn't look much like a FBI. John still couldn't figure out why the FBI was interested in his wife's death. Especially since the local police felt it was just a terrible accident.

_Terrible accident? My God, it was no accident._ John rested his forehead on his free hand and sobbed. He'd been a horrible husband. At times, he wasn't sure what kept Mary married to him. He knew she'd thought about leaving a little before she found out she was pregnant with Sam. _I of course vowed to be a good husband. Sam was going to change everything for us. I was trying so hard to be the husband she wanted._

He sobbed some more, sucked in a deep breath, and took the final swig of whiskey. He'd made the decision to follow this Richard. He suspected he knew more then he was letting on. He knew he was staying at the Up All Night Inn and leaving town tomorrow. Whatever was going on, tomorrow he was going to get answers. _One way or another I will find the man who tore apart my family._

Early the next morning, Dean carried Sam from the small room at the end of the hall to the living room to watch some cartoons. It was too early for Ann to be up; she made the best waffles on Saturday and Dean couldn't wait to have a few. He found John passed out sitting on the couch. The whiskey glass discarded on the floor next to the couch. One lone drop of drool hung from John's chin.

Dean carefully set Sam down and turned the television on low. Dean quickly cleaned up the whiskey glass in the kitchen and put it in the cupboard. Ann didn't like John drinking so much. Dean didn't want her to be upset. He desperately wanted today to be a good day. It was Saturday after all.

John stirred to life twenty minutes later to find Sam and Dean sitting on the floor in front of him watching cartoons. He really didn't know what to do with them. Their mom had been in charge of caring for them. He didn't know Dean's favorite food or how many words Sam could say. But he did love his sons, just in a disconnected father way. If only he knew how to connect with them.

"You're awake daddy. I didn't mean to wake you." Dean nervously glanced at John. He could never be certain what type of mood his dad would be in after sleeping off the drunk.

"No, son you're ok." John noticed they were watching a Spiderman cartoon. "Spiderman, huh?" He smiled fondly; Spiderman had always been one of his favorite superheroes.

"Yeah! He's the best!" Dean exclaimed.

"Climb on up here. Both of you." He stretched out his arms inviting the boys onto the couch. Hungry for affection, they clambered up and settled into the embrace.

Sam, Dean, and John sat on the couch together for the remaining of the cartoon. Each of the boys snuggled under one of their daddy's arms. After the episode was over, John kissed the top of each of their heads. "I'm gonna be out of town for a job today. You boys be good for Ann. Do what you're told. OK?"

"Sure thing Daddy. You'll be back though, right?" Dean always got anxious if John was gone too long. Mary's death had really affected him and he was certain Dean worried that John may just go away too.

"I will always be back. Always." He said softly and kissed them one last time.

John had followed the FBI agent for over two hours before he pulled into a junk yard and parked in front of a house. The guy was certainly not dressed like FBI today. He had on a pair of worn out jeans and a red and black flannel shirt. His hair was a bit messy. John pulled the Impala into the drive and found the guy waiting for him.

"Mr. Winchester. What can I do for 'ya?" Bobby had his arms folded across his chest and stood next to a beat-up Chevy truck. The truck's window was down with a shotgun within arms reach. He didn't trust anyone, but he especially didn't trust a man who'd just lost his wife.

"I want to know why you believed my story and..." John paused, looked at the farm house and the car-filled property, "I want to know who you are." John was nervous; he'd not really confronted anyone in a long time. He was well-trained from his time in the marines but that seemed like a long time ago.

Bobby looked the man up and down. He was mourning that was certain. He seemed harmless enough. "Well, for all of that, you'll need a drink. Come on inside."

After John was settled at the kitchen table with beer in hand, Bobby explained who he was and that he quite simply believed him, because everything he said was true. That completely freaked out John. John was in shock. This whole time he thought he was crazy, but this man was defiantly crazier then him.

"Look, I know this is a lot to take in. I don't know all the details. I'm working on that. But you're wife most definitely didn't die of natural causes." Bobby wasn't good at gentle, but he was trying. He'd always been a bit rough around the edges. He finished his beer and got them both another one from the fridge. "Look. You can believe me or not. Doesn't change the facts."

John left Bobby's house that day with mixed emotions. There was now one other person who believed that John wasn't crazy. The only question was, was Bobby crazy or could this all be real? He wanted to believe. He wanted to believe so badly his body ached. He wanted to be able to get revenge on something. If it had all been one tragic accident, then he had nothing to live for. If Bobby was right, he had something to fight for. He had something to blame and to exact revenge on.

The drive back to Ann's was one big blur. His mind raced with demons, curses and killing demons. He sat in front of Ann's house with the Impala's engine running. He wasn't ready to go in; he wasn't ready to face the boys. He put the car in drive and drove to an old car shop in the middle of town. Before the fire, this was his job. His second home. Some nights, when Mary and he fought, it was home.

The shop was a small garage with two stalls and a small waiting room. It was an old building with brown tile floor and wood paneling in the waiting area. He and Ernie would tease the owner about getting the place updated. But it had been the owner's father's shop and he couldn't part with the paneling for one reason or another. _Sentimental bastard. _That was something John didn't quite understand. _How could anyone be that attached to wood paneling?_

As he approached the shop, he noticed there were no cars being repaired. Ernie's boredom was poorly hidden. He absently thumbed throw an old copy of _Motor Today_ and stared out the window. The door bell started him; he obviously jumped as John walked in.

"Hey there!" He was grateful to see John. Despite what everyone else said about his mental health, John remained one of Ernie's closest friend.

One thing John liked about Ernie was his ability to sit and listen. He didn't interrupt until you were done talking. It was a good quality that most don't possess. John unloaded on him. Without fear of embarrassment he told Ernie about what he saw and his conversation with Bobby. He expressed his anger and need for revenge. When he was done venting, Ernie said nothing. He picked up the phone and asked for a phone number and then turned to John.

"Here is the number of a woman you should talk to. My wife swears by her." He handed the number scribbled on the torn corner of _Motor Today_.

**AN: Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think. I appreciate any concrit. **


	2. Coming Home

What Becomes of Us

Chapter 2: Coming Home

John spent the last few weeks thinking over what Bobby had told him and considering the trip to visit Missouri. He knew if he went down this road, he could completely lose grip of what little sanity he had left. He feared the answers he may find. Part of him feared either being told he was crazy or actually going crazy.

When he looked at his boys, he knew he needed to provide for them. He needed to stop grieving and move on. H needed to be the father they deserved. Running off to meet a psychic wasn't going to help him take care of his boys. John decided he would need to take control of the boys and the situation. He began looking for somewhere they could stay. At least a temporary home was better then living with someone else.

He and the boys found a small two bedroom apartment that rented weekly. He used a chunk of the money left over from Mary's life insurance polices to pay ahead on the room and another chunk to fix the house. They'd be able to stay there for two months. The house should be finished. By then, John had to have his head on straight and find a job. There was a small chance he could go back to the shop. If not, well, he'd figure something out.

They moved in to the apartment on a Friday afternoon. Everything they owned fit neatly into three bags. He was saddened that there wasn't even enough clothes to fill the dressers. He'd been lucky to have what they did. Ann's church had a clothing drive for them after the fire. Otherwise, they'd have a lot less.

It was 8 o'clock at night and the pizza boxes from supper remained on the counter. Sam was settled into the apartment's crib and Dean was watching television in the bedroom. Overall it had been a good day. Dean loved spending time with his dad. With pride he'd helped pick out the furnished apartment and went with his dad to find a contractor for the house. Dean smiled at Sammy who snored in the crib. He was certain things were going to be OK. He rested his head and began to doze off to sleep.

John drank his whiskey and thought. Thinking wasn't the best thing for him. He couldn't get the yellow eyes out of his head. They invaded his dreams. He saw them in mirrors or glass windows. He was paranoid. He was obsessed. He tried hard to keep this obsession hidden from everyone, especially from Dean. Dean had become quite the mother hen through all of this. John didn't want to give him anything more to worry about.

After Mary's death, he'd seen a psychologist. It only took a couple of visits for him to decide he didn't like shrinks. But the one thing he did take away from that guy was journaling. Several weeks back he'd purchased a black leather bound journal. He'd started writing down everything he could remember about the night Mary died. He wrote down everything Bobby had told him. It seemed therapeutic to get some of it out of his head. He picked-up the journal and began writing about the eyes.

They'd lived at the apartment one and half months and John was struggling to find a job. He'd applied at all of the local mechanic shops and even three in a nearby town. No one was hiring. He'd even gotten up the courage to go back to his old employer, but he'd turned him down. _I need someone reliable. Hell, I'm reliable. He needs someone without two motherless kids._ He was bitter and desperate. He was on his way to the local grocery store to apply there. _If they'd hire high school kids, surely they'd hire me._

After a strangely long interview, he was the newest member of the grocery store's team. He'd been handed an apron on his way out and was told to come back the following morning at 8 am to finalize wage and hours. Walking out of the store he felt oddly good about such a mediocre job.

Since he was feeling so good, he picked the boys up from Anne's a bit early. She was obviously happy he'd found a job. She'd volunteered before to watch the boys when John found a job. Before leaving he confirmed a 0745 drop-off. And the three left to go get ice cream.

Dean still remembers that day. He had chocolate and Sammy shared vanilla with John. They sat outside the ice cream shop and watched the cars drive by as they ate their ice cream. It was one of those few times Dean remembered his daddy relaxed. Dean remembered the sun beating down on his face. They'd all laughed when Sammy spilled Dean's empty ice cream bowl onto his pants. Sammy's legs were covered in the Chocolate soup. After ice cream they went to a park and played the rest of the afternoon. That night, all three of them snuggled up in one bed. John skipped his nightly dose of Whiskey. It was a perfect day for Dean and his family.

John and the boys had gotten into a routine. He'd been working at the grocery store for two weeks. He was working mother's hours, 9 AM to 3 PM. These hours were good for John, it let him ease into work. The manager had talked to him about the potential of moving into an assisted manager role. This would be a good move for them since there'd be a pay raise and full-time hours.

John stood outside the finished house. He wasn't certain he could go in. The boy's were still at Ann's. He doubted they knew he was there. There was no evidence of a fire; the contractors had done a good job. He was impressed as he walked up the sidewalk to the porch, and from the porch to the house. His hand paused on the door handle as he pulled it open. He swore he heard Mary's voice.

_John, is that you?_

He sucked in air. _It's not real, I know it's not real._ He waited; Mary's voice didn't return, he walked into the house.

_Hey there! Come-up stairs. _John walked over to the stairs. He paused, and waited. _John? I'm waiting. _Her voice beckoned him; he shook his head in a failed attempt to gain control of reality.

"Mary? Is it you?" John ran up the stairs. "Where are you baby?"

Her infectious laughter, _In the baby's room. Hurry! _Mary's voice changed from playful to urgent and scared. _John, Oh my GOD! JOHN!_

John ran down the hallway to Sam's nursery. At first it was empty with the new paint smell invading his nostrils. But then slowly coming into focus, Sam's old crib, dresser, and wall decorations appeared.

"Mary?" He looked around the room. Nothing, but her voice continued to resonate in his head. He frantically looked around the room. Nothing; then he remembered the worse night of his life and slowly glanced up. There pinned to the ceiling was Mary. He screamed and the image disappeared. John was no longer in Sam's old nursery, but he was on his knees sobbing in the newly painted and remodeled room.

That's where Bobby found him. "Hey, you ok?" Bobby pocked at him.

John's face was puffy from crying. He looked at Bobby through tear-filled eyes. "I'm fine. What are you doing here?"

"I heard your house was finished. And thought I'd better check it out." Bobby had a small hand-held electrical device. The red lights along the top blinked occasionally. The clock-hand dial didn't move. "The house looks clean. Whatever happened was here, is no longer here. It should be safe for you and your family."

"My family," John sobbed and broke down again.

"Will you stop crying like a baby. You're starting to make me feel like we're on some damn girly show." Bobby shook his head. _No sense for a grown man to act that. Idget. _

After John had collected himself and Bobby left, he went to pick-up Sam and Dean. He wanted them to see their new home. That night was their first night in the house. There wasn't furniture yet, so they camped out in the living room. Although neither would admit it, Dean and John were grateful to be sleeping so close. Neither of them were truly ready to be back in this house.

John laid awake listening to his son's soft snores. They'd been out for almost an hour. John's mind continued to go back to the day's events. He knew somehow he either needed to move on or he had to find the man responsible for his wife's death. He couldn't remain here in purgatory anymore. Tomorrow he was off from work. He'd drop the boys off with Ann and go see this Missouri woman. He hoped she'd help him know what to do.

The next day, he dropped Dean and Sam off at Ann's and drove to see Missouri.

**AN: sorry for the lateness, we've had a rash of illness in our house the last couple of weeks. I do hope you enjoy the chapter. As always, any feedback is always appreciated! Thanks for reading!**


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